


Seeds of Blood

by Purplechimera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Descriptions of Blood, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Immortal Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplechimera/pseuds/Purplechimera
Summary: After being locked out of the house, Sirius stumbles upon a cave he never noticed before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an exercise in fitting Marauder characters into Greek Mythology. While all the characters have a direct Greek Myth counterpart, I have altered some of the narrations to fit my own story (but really, when it comes to Greek myths, what else is new?).  
> Points to you if you know who is which god!
> 
> Super super big thank you to @jennandblitz for being the best cheerleader ever and validating my bizarre ideas.

The slam of the door echoed in the sudden silence, followed by the loud _click_ of the lock. Sirius waited several panicked heart beats, then carefully pushed himself up, brushing gravel from his shoulders. 

Well, he supposed it could have been worse. Last time he’d back-talked his mother, he’d been locked in the cellar; at least today he was outside. A breeze cut through his tunic, and he suddenly remembered how cold it could get once the sun went down.

Gingerly, he rose to his feet, turned his back to the house, and walked toward the setting sun. The tunic and breeches he wore were perfectly suitable for riding, but not as much for keeping warm after sunset. By some miracle of fate, Sirius stumbled into a cave just as the last rays disappeared. He knew he wasn’t _that_ far from the house and yet...he was equally certain he’d never come across this cave before. It seemed simple enough; small, and decent enough for weather protection, but certainly not long-term living. Still, it would be fine for tonight.

Sirius paced the cave, contemplating whether he should attempt a fire. His boot connected with some pebbles, sending them skittering, and he paused at the sound. Something about the way the sound echoed made the cave sound significantly bigger than the twenty or so paces he had counted.

With bated breath, Sirius ran his long fingers along the cavern wall, counting his paces silently. At pace eleven, his fingers discovered a crevice that he was certain had not been there before-it was several inches wide, and ran as high as he could reach.

No, it was nearly a foot wide.

As wide as a door.

Was that a flicker of light?

Sirius squinted as the light grew stronger. It was definitely a fire. With one last glance over his shoulder into the darkness, he made his way toward the light.

~~~

The passage wound much further than Sirius anticipated, and his left leg was radiating pain by the time he reached what appeared to be some kind of antechamber. The walls bore lit sconces every five feet or so, four on each side. At the other end was a small door, not hidden, but certainly not called out. It somehow reminded Sirius of the back door of a shop-not advertised, but certainly not a secret.

Biting his lip, Sirius squared his shoulders and grasped the handle. It was bone cold. Sirius was somewhat surprised to find it unlocked, and it swung open completely silently. Now he was _certain_ he had discovered some kind of back door; he had revealed a throne room, but instead of entering at the back in full view of the throne, he was off to the side, peering at the throne at an angle. 

It looked as though the throne were made of bones. After a swift look around revealed that he was alone, Sirius approached the throne. It was indeed made of bones; or else carved by the most talented sculptor Sirius had ever seen. The footrest was nearly at Sirius’ chest, and he wondered if it was for a giant, or merely for intimidation. Just as he stepped around the side to search for some kind of ladder or stairs, he heard voices.

“-stand, Gideon, but it’s not our decision. Dumbledore always-” The voice faltered.

Sirius looked up at the speaker; he was quite tall and broad, with dark curls and piercing eyes. He was shrouded in a black cloak, and when he turned, his pale skin almost shimmered in the torchlight. Sirius felt as though he’d been turned to stone.

“Gideon,” the man’s tone had shifted, and though he still sounded irritated, it was also much more formal now, “You didn’t tell me that…” he trailed off again, his eyes boring into Sirius. “You’re alive.”

There was movement, presumably from Gideon, but Sirius couldn’t pull his eyes off this man’s face. After an extremely long pause, he found his voice. “Last time I checked. Though there have been moments of doubt.”

The man’s eyes traveled down Sirius’ body, and his brow wrinkled. “You’re injured.”

“What?” Sirius glanced down. His left leg was wrapped in a thorny vine, which had torn through his trousers and had started digging into his skin. He was unsure how he hadn’t noticed before, as he was now nearly overwhelmed with pain. “Oh.” He brushed the vine, and his fingers tingled with his mother’s magic. “My mother’s handiwork.”

When Sirius looked back up, the man was next to him, kneeling down to look more closely at the vine. He held up a broad hand, fingers hovering so closely that Sirius could feel the heat radiating from them. When had it gotten so cold? “This...is Walburga’s magic.”

Sirius frowned. “That’s what I said.”

The man rose, and now that he was closer, Sirius had to look up to keep his eyes trained on the other man’s face. There were two small, dark red horns poking out between his curls. Just as Sirius opened his mouth to ask about them, the man turned and strode away.

“Gideon,” he called over his shoulder, “Return Walburga’s son to her. He does not belong in the Underworld.”

For the first time, Sirius’ gaze shifted to the third person. While the first man was tall and broad, Gideon was both small and somehow gangly. His limbs were too long, his face too old. Everything about him seemed mismatched-as though the gods had built him out of spare parts. Still, he smiled at Sirius and held out his hand.

“Come then, let’s return you to the living, hmm?”

Sirius stared at the hand, which was chubby, like a child’s, though covered in translucent, wrinkly skin. He shifted, and the thorns dug further into his leg, and he tried not to wince. “No.”

Gideon’s smile faltered. “No?”

“No,” Sirius repeated, more firmly this time. “I came into this cave seeking shelter. I intend to stay.” His spine straightened, though this time he could not hide the wince when the thorns dug in. Gideon’s mismatched eyes flickered down to Sirius’ leg.

“Your leg smells like death.”

“Is this how you normally greet your guests?”

But Gideon was rolling his eyes and crouching closer to Sirius’ leg. Gingerly, he touched the vine with one finger, and the spot where he touched turned brown with decay. “My Lord!” Even though he had not spoken any louder, somehow this echoed around the chamber as though Gideon had shouted.

For ten seconds, everything was silent. Then the double doors at the rear of the chamber burst open, and though Sirius was certain it was the same man from before, he seemed somehow larger, even more intimidating, with his cloak billowing and his eyes flashing.

“Gideon, I do not have time for games.” He strode up to them, eyes narrowed. “Why is this beater still here?”

Sirius bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Both of the other men ignored him. Gideon rose, gesturing to the vine. “It’s poisoned.”

“So he arrived early. Take him to Hagrid.” The man turned, but Gideon touched his elbow, and he froze.

“My Lord...The Fates have not cast his name. My touch did nothing to him.”

Sirius tried to tamp down his frustration. “Excuse me? I am right here.”

Both of the other men looked at him, and Sirius got the feeling that they were truly seeing him for the first time. The tall man rubbed the pads of his fingers across his thumb. “Why _are_ you here?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I told you, I found a cave that had a passage that led down here. I was only looking for shelter from the night.”

“Walburga is your mother?”

Sirius nodded.

“She never lets her children wander at night.”

Sirius frowned, but thought it prudent not to ask how this man knew so much about his mother. Many people did, after all. “She locked me out.”

Gideon cleared his throat softly. “Sir, if I may-”

“Gideon, go fetch a healer.”

“But-”

“ _Gideon._ ”

Gideon turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The man turned back to Sirius. “Do you know who I am?”

Sirius shook his head, though the moment he did so, an inkling started growing in his mind.

With silent grace, the man strode over to the throne, though he did not ascend it; he merely gestured to it, and then around the room. “I am Remus, Lord of the Dead.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, THANK YOU for all the overwhelmingly amazing responses I've received for chapter 1-you guys are incredible and I am so pleased and proud to be a member of this community. I love YOU!
> 
> As always thank you to my bestie @Jennandblitz for betaing!!

Remus waited for the usual dramatics, and while what happened next was dramatic, it certainly wasn’t usual; the son of Walburga collapsed in a dead faint on the floor. Remus’ gaze fell onto the man’s leg and the vine tightened around his thigh, cutting deeper into the flesh.

 

 _Now_ what was he supposed to do? He was not used to living guests, let alone injured ones who collapse in his throne room. His mind’s eye offered up images of Olympus, and the wing of the palace Marlene set up for her Healers. Remus had been forbidden from entering, but he could see beds. Which brought his next problem: the only bed in the entire building was _his_. Well, that might not be strictly true. Remus was almost certain his servants had rooms somewhere, but he never bothered looking for them.

 

For the first time, Remus took in the man sprawled at his feet. His hair spiralled out, rich dark soil against the pale yew flooring. There really wasn’t any doubt that this was a child of Walburga; her thorns and brambles were hidden in her words and actions, surrounded by breathtaking beauty. Remus often wondered if Walburga lined her property with oleander hedges on purpose-really, how could it not be?- to reflect herself: beautiful, bitter, and deadly.

 

Still, he was much paler than Walburga, who always looked sun-kissed, much to Marlene’s dismay. Movement caught Remus’ eye-it was the vine, winding its way up. Remus summoned help and, with easily disguised panic, surrendered his library to his guest. He leaned against the wall outside the door, listening to his servants transforming armchairs into bedroom furniture and pretending he wasn’t sneaking about his own house.

 

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Remus desperately tried to look casual; he wasn’t used to this, and when Gideon rounded the corner, Remus immediately knew he had failed. Gideon raised one eyebrow, then sighed, reaching back without looking and wrapping mismatched fingers around a white sleeve.

 

The woman looked _terrified_ , wide eyes fixed on Remus’ shoulder. Gideon cleared his throat, hauling her up next to him. “My Lord, this is Poppy Pomfrey, a late scion of Lady Marlene’s Healer’s Wing.”

 

Remus nodded, stepping aside to give them full access to his library door. “Madame Pomfrey, it is good to see you again.” He dipped his head. “I believe the vine is the work of Lady Walburga. The servants have been instructed to fetch you anything you need. Thank you for your service.” Remus bowed once again and swept down the hall before nearly slamming his bedroom door in a panic.

 

 _This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous_. He summoned a glass of ambrosia and drank it in one gulp. When his body had calmed back down, he opened the door, ready to head back to his duties.

 

Gideon’s laughter filled the hall, bouncing off the walls and nearly causing Remus to jump out of his skin. It sounded rusty and underused. “No, that kind of thing is only down in Tartarus, ‘round these parts. A beater is what we call you living folk-folk with a heart beat.”

 

The next voice washed over Remus like a brook. “None of you have heartbeats?”

 

“This is the Underworld, lad,” Gideon replied, still chuckling.

 

“Even Remus?”

 

There was a pause, and Remus could see, in his mind’s eye, the stubby fingers of Gideon’s right hand playing with the hairs on his chin. “Dunno. Lord Remus is an Immortal. Never checked if an Immortal had hearts.”

 

A new voice, higher and dripping with impatience-Madame Pomfrey.“Of course Immortals have hearts.” There was the clanking of metal on ceramic. “Well, they all have heartbeats, anyway.”

 

There was more laughter, and though it still sounded rusty and underused, it was nothing like Gideon’s. Remus felt his heartbeat speed up. He was just turning on heel to retreat to his throne room when Gideon’s voice called out.

 

“My Lord!”

 

Breathing in sharply through his nose, Remus stopped at the threshold of his library, suddenly unable to move forward. The son of Walburga was lying on a bed with bright white sheets, his left leg oozing pus from the thorns. Madame Pomfrey had cleared two shelves of books, replacing them with vials and bowls. His precious books were stacked haphazardly in the corner.

 

“My Lord, do we have poppies?”

 

Remus blinked, his eyes refocusing on Gideon. “Why would we need poppies when we have Fabian?” He turned to Madame Pomfrey, resolutely ignoring the man in the bed. “I presume you want to put him to sleep?”

 

Madame Pomfrey nodded, gesturing to the vine. “Sirius flinches any time anyone touches it. Every time he does so, the vine wraps tighter.”

 

 _Sirius._ “Very well. Gideon, go rouse your brother.” Sirius. Sirius was staring at him, his silver eyes freezing Remus to the spot while Gideon’s awkward footsteps faded. Madame Pomfrey began rearranging her vials. For several moments, Remus couldn’t concentrate on anything but the pounding of his own heart. Then he cleared his throat. “Well. I am going back to work. Call if you need anything else, Madame. Sirius.”

 

~~~

 

Remus settled into his chair, eyes drawn to the spot on the floor where Sirius had collapsed. It was indistinguishable from the rest of the floor, yet somehow it was though a beacon had been lit there. He summoned a servant.

 

“Please retrieve some mortal food for our guest.” _I don’t want him trapped here because he ate mine_ , he added silently. Just as he settled in to his current book,-ever grateful he kept his current read close at hand- panicked screams reverberated around the chamber. Remus rose, every muscle in his body tense. The only time he heard screams like that were when he visited Tartarus-which he did _not_ do often. It took a moment to orient himself, and then he was running back up the hall to the library.

 

The screaming stopped, and Fabian was standing outside the door, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He cocked his head to the side, peering at Remus. “My Lord,” he mumbled.

 

Remus smiled indulgently and patted Fabian on his broad shoulder. “I’ll just ask Gideon, hmm?” He knocked on the door, then opened a crack. “May I come in?”

 

Madame Pomfrey answered. “Yes, Lord Remus, please do come in.”

 

Sirius was tucked so far back against the bookshelves behind his bed that Remus thought the words might spill onto his skin. The white sheets were stained with pus and blood.

 

Gideon cleared his throat. “My Lord, Fabian did _nothing_ , he merely entered the room-”

 

Remus held up a hand for silence, then looked from Sirius’ horror-stricken face to Gideon’s mismatched one, back out the door to the bit of Fabian he could see. “Sirius...do you know who Fabian is?”

 

Sirius gave a minute shrug, and his mouth opened several times before words came out. “Mother once...mentioned a god of sleep. She didn’t say he was...not formed.”

 

It suddenly occurred to Remus how little this man knew of his own heritage. He racked his brain for insights into Walburga’s parenting ideals and came up woefully barren. Then he stepped back into the hall and, for the first time in a very long time, he studied Fabian.

 

If Gideon was built from spare parts, Fabian had never even been finished. He was shaped more like a lump of clay than a human, and Remus had never known him to be awake for more than five minutes at a time. Indeed, Fabian had fallen asleep against the wall. Remus turned on heel and strode back into the library.

 

“Sirius, Madame Pomfrey needs you to be asleep. Will you consent to allowing Fabian to put you in a deep sleep?”

 

Sirius had apparently recovered from his horrors, because he spat back, “I am not a _child_. Do not speak to me that way.”

 

Remus shifted his eyes from Sirius, around the room. “I...am sorry. That was not my intent.”

 

Sirius shifted, causing a gasp to escape him, and a new blood stain to blossom on the sheet. “Alright,” he gritted out, “Send him in.”

 

Once again, Remus left the library, heading toward his bedroom. _This will be over soon_ , he told himself as he poured another glass of ambrosia. _Then the beater will be gone, and everything will go back to normal_. He tried to ignore the way his mind substituted “beater” with “Sirius.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you to the amazing @jennandblitz for beta-ing and generally being an overwhelmingly beautiful person

Sirius held his breath as Fabian re-entered the room, and this time, he tried to focus on the god before him and not his mother’s voice in his head. Certainly, Fabian was grotesque, but now that Sirius had gotten over the initial shock, he noticed that he looked more ready to curl up and take a nap than attack anyone. Fabian yawned, then sat down on the side of Sirius’ bed.

 

“Just a moment, Lord Fabian,” Pomfrey interrupted, wiping her hands repeatedly on her apron. “Sirius, I am going to draw the poison down your leg. Hopefully I will be able to remove all of it, but if not, you might have some permanent damage.” 

 

Closing his eyes, Sirius nodded. Then he settled back onto his pillows, and everything went black.

 

~~~

 

The first thing Sirius became fully aware of was the dull throb of his leg. It felt simultaneously as though his leg had fallen asleep, and he had suddenly become aware of every nerve. His breath gasped out, and his vision swam into focus, revealing Pomfrey leaning over him. 

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“Terrible.”

 

Pomfrey hummed and disappeared from view. She returned a moment later, tipping a vial against Sirius’ lips. “Drink this, it will help.”

 

It tasted like spinach and red wine. The moment Sirius swallowed, his head cleared and his breathing eased. The drink did nothing for his leg. Pomfrey helped him sit up, arranging pillows behind him. 

 

Untold hours later, Remus appeared in the doorway, and Sirius nearly cried with relief. Pomfrey wasn’t exactly the most stimulating conversation, what with having been dead for a hundred years. 

 

Pomfrey met him at the door, and they whispered together, as though Sirius were their invalid child. He barely resisted the urge to cross his arms and pout. Instead, he tried to reconcile the man leaning down to hear Pomfrey’s whispered words with the villain of his mother’s fables. To hear Walburga talk, Remus should look more like Gideon and Fabian, not like...a person. Certainly, he was a very tall person. With very curly hair. Walburga never mentioned that he had hair that curled around tiny horns. She never mentioned how strong his hands looked.

 

It was all Sirius could do not to screech when suddenly the man he’d been admiring was standing at his bedside, peering down at him with eyes that looked like two full moons. Sirius always loved full moons. He started loving them out of spite because of how much Walburga hated them, and month after month of worship worms its way into your core.  _ Two _ full moons would be twice the-

 

“Sirius? How are you feeling?”

 

He blinked. “What? Oh. Fine. Good! Good.”  _ Why am I talking like this? _

 

One eyebrow edged toward a horn. “Good?”

 

“Mhm! Just...my leg hurts.”  _ Can I even feel it? Am I numb because it’s too much or because I can’t feel anything? _

 

A smile, this time. “Yes, Madame Pomfrey just informed me that it will take at least several days to draw all the poison out. Since you will be here in my library for the foreseeable future, may I recommend a book?”

 

“Only if you’ll read it to me.”  _ Why? Why did you say that? He doesn’t have time to- _

 

Remus paused only for a moment, then plucked a book off the shelf and sat down, pinning Sirius’ good leg under the blankets. He cleared his throat. “I have a few minutes. This is one of my favorites…”

 

Remus’ voice flowed over him like sand-warm and gravelly; bits of it clinging to his psyche, worming its way into every corner of his mind. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

 

When he awoke, the window revealed the night sky, and it occurred to Sirius that the Underworld was supposed to be, well,  _ underground _ . Still, there was his namesake, sparkling in the sky, mocking him. 

 

He sat up. Leaning against a glass of water on his makeshift nightstand was a note:

 

_ Drink entire glass of water. I will know if you dump it out. Do. Not. Get. Out. Of. Bed. Pomfrey _

 

Sirius drank, wondering if dead people still sleep. Does Remus? Certainly Fabian did nothing  _ but _ sleep, so much so that it was contagious. As he set the empty glass down, he noticed a large book. Scooting over, he managed to grab the end, and it fell into his lap heavily. The letters certainly  _ looked _ Greek, though they danced and swirled on the page, and Sirius couldn’t seem to read any of the words. He tried not to pout; this was certainly the book Remus had been reading to him, and he couldn’t quite remember what the story was about.

 

The squeak of the door caused Sirius to jump, which in turn shot radiating pain down his leg. He clenched his jaw against it and looked up. The cloaked, shadowy figure in the doorway pulled out every fear his mother had ever implanted, whispering warnings in his ear against wandering at night.

 

But then the figure moved into the torchlight and was revealed to be Remus, looking almost delighted. “Hello. I am so pleased you have awakened. How do you feel?” For a moment, Sirius thought Remus was going to sit on the bed, but Remus simply stood close to his knees.

 

“I...better. Definitely better.”

 

Remus smiled, and the last tendrils of fear slowly released Sirius’ chest. “Are you hungry? I’ve had some food fetched for you.” He waved a hand, and Sirius caught a glimpse of a large ring before he was distracted by the small feast that covered his bed.

 

A hot crumpet was halfway to Sirius’ mouth when he paused. “Is it true that if you eat food from the Underworld that you’ll be stuck here forever?”

 

“This is not food from the Underworld. I had it fetched.” 

 

Sirius couldn’t help but notice that Remus hadn’t technically answered his question. But his stomach growled in protest at his hesitation and he quickly cleared the tray of food.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your wonderful support!!! I am adding a little header that says which character's POV each chapter is as it will change. Enjoy!!

~James~

 

Of all the gods, Walburga was James’ least favorite by far. Not because her domain was particularly gruesome or terrifying-Remus held most of those-but because she treated everyone else like a building blocking out her sunlight. It was, of course, no surprise that she and Dumbledore did not get along (really, hardly  _ anyone _ got along with Dumbledore), and therefore all the  _ more _ surprising when she burst into Olympus Plaza unbeckoned and unannounced. 

 

“Dumbledore!” Walburga’s shrieks echoed from twelve marble columns. They carried with them the overwhelming aroma of a thousand flowers, the sickeningly sweet taste of poison, the unnerving caress of pine needles.

 

Across the way, James saw Lily nearly drop her apple. She recovered it rather gracefully with her foot, and bit into it. James noticed he was hovering several inches above his throne and quickly lowered himself. 

 

Dumbledore, never one to act surprised even if he was, adjusted his spectacles and set aside the scroll he had been reading. “Walburga. To what do we owe this...pleasure?”

 

Rather than stopping at her own throne, Walburga makes her way to Dumbledore’s feet. James, from Dumbledore’s right side, could see the belladonna vines on her dress tremble when she stomped her foot. 

 

“My  _ son _ has been  _ kidnapped _ , Dumbledore.”

 

_ Guess that confirms that rumor _ , James thought, making a note to collect a drachma from Mary. 

 

Dumbledore traced the carvings on his throne arm with one long finger. “Which one?”

 

James sighed and made a note to give the drachma he got from Mary to Molly. He was part way through calculating how much he’d earned in the end when Dumbledore tapped him sharply on the shoulder.

 

“James. Have you been listening?”

 

“Er…” He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Lily’s giggling. “No.” 

 

Dumbledore breathed heavily through his nose. “Go ask Remus if Walburga’s son Sirius has died.”

 

That certainly jolted James to reality. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ like _ Remus, it’s just...well, hardly anyone could afford to not like Remus. Still, he was very broody and formal. And he hardly ever left his library. James’ eyes flicked from Dumbledore to Walburga. He cleared his throat.

 

“Right.”

 

~~~

 

By the time James reached the Outer Gates, he had nearly talked himself out of the entire quest. And yet, no matter how elusive Remus was, his overly-polite intellectualism never felt rotten.

 

Unlike Dumbledore.

 

James’ stomach twisted nonetheless when the obsidian knocker reverberated in his chest. 

 

“Jus’ a minute, James!” A scratchy voice called from the other side. Sure enough, a moment later the doors swung silently open, revealing a very large, very hairy, giant of a man holding a bright pink oar.

 

“Hagrid, how do you always know its me?”

 

Hagrid grinned, his beard twitching. “Yer the only one who knocks.” 

 

It occurred to James that Hagrid might be omitting part of the truth, but as he opened his mouth to ask, deep barks echoed up out of the Underworld. Hagrid cocked his head half over his shoulder.

 

“Ah’ll be there in a mo’, Spot!” He turned back to James. “Was ye needin’ sommat?”

 

“I need to see…” James swallowed, then looked properly at the man before him. “Hagrid, you take  _ everyone _ across the Styx, don’t you?”

 

One bushy eyebrow raised. “Aye.”

 

“And surely a man as devoted to his job as you remembers every soul you’ve ferried?”

 

Hagrid rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Well, I dunno. When Mad-Eye gets fired up, makes my job tha’ much harder. People dyin’ by the hundreds, every day, when there’s war on. But it’s peaceful now, and I do like to have a nice chat.”

 

James nodded sagely. “Yes, chats with the recently deceased are fascinating. Tell me, Hagrid, have you ferried any sons of Walburga recently?”

 

“Walburga? Nah. Only thing what smelled like Walburga this season was a girl who ate a bunch o’ daphne seeds.”

 

With a sigh of relief, James grinned. “Thanks so much, Hagrid!” The barks resumed, and James jumped, but recovered by launching himself in the air. “Have fun with Spot!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, I promise the next one will be longer. There's a lot of establishing stuff going on here.
> 
> A zillion thank yous to @Jennandblitz for being an awesome beta and allowing me to panic at her about whether what I'm doing makes any sense.

~Sirius~

 

“Does time move differently in the Underworld?” Sirius asked one day, while Pomfrey turned his right ankle this way and that.

 

“I have been dead for nearly two hundred years,” Pomfrey replied, her tongue between her teeth. “The poison is drawing out nicely, though much slower than I anticipated. You ought to start getting some walking in soon.”

 

Sirius perked up almost immediately. “I can get out of bed?!”

 

Pomfrey made a non-committal sound as she conjured a glass of water. “You are not to leave this room. Having an immortal parent increases your recovery, but it still takes time. Plus,” she added after he had finished the glass, “you’ll need to build your strength back up.”

 

“For what?”

 

Pomfrey paused, one hand on the doorframe. “You aren’t going to live in Lord Remus’ library forever, are you?” And then she was gone.

 

Gingerly, Sirius scooted toward the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. His feet and ankles felt swollen and uncoordinated, but he managed two steps from the bedside to the bookshelf. The scent of parchment and ink nearly overwhelmed him and he ran his fingers along the spines, envisioning Remus’ fingers just days ago, searching for a book to offer Sirius. 

 

The book Remus had chosen was currently on the makeshift nightstand. Sirius’ fingers slid over the smooth wooden shelf, dipping in to the space left by Remus’ chosen book. The wood felt almost warm. His knee buckled and, when he instinctively grabbed the shelf, his fingers sank into the wood and vines started bursting out, blooming and withering over and over. He stumbled backward and collapsed onto the bed, which creaked and began sprouting leaves from the bedframe.

 

There was a great clatter as Sirius’ arm flailed, knocking everything off his nightstand. Along with his book and glass, a bronze bell tumbled to the floor, and rolled under the bed. It began to chime and didn’t stop. The library door flew open, and for moment Remus’ cloak filled the doorway. 

 

“Sirius? Are you alright?” 

 

“There’s-plants!” Sirius’ voice was tight with panic.

 

With great deliberation, Remus knelt down and retrieved the bell, setting it upright on the table. It ceased chiming at once. “Yes, I can see that.” He glanced around, taking in the variety of foliage now adorning his library.  

 

“Why? Is my mother here?”

 

Remus gives him an unreadable look. “No, but you are.”

 

Sirius’ gaze plummeted to his knees, and he could feel shame creeping up the back of his neck. “I...don’t have any magic,” he mumbled. There was a pregnant pause, and then Remus’ knee came into view as he sat on the bed. 

 

“Sirius...you are the son of the goddess of the fertility of the earth.” 

 

The shame spread around his neck and across his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” the words are all but inaudible. Sirius waited. He waited for the crack of a whip, for the blossom of pain, for the burn of poison. When Remus gently touched his cheek, Sirius flinched so hard the bed creaked. 

 

Remus’ fingers slid from Sirius’ face, hovering just above Sirius’ knee. “Shall I read the next chapter?” His voice surrounded Sirius like the night.

 

“Y-yes.” Sirius shifted until he was back against his pillows. “Please.”

 

Remus retrieved the book from the floor, cleared his throat, and began to read.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late-I was sick all last week. Hope you enjoy it!

~Remus~

 

The moment Sirius fell asleep, Remus fled. Down the hall, down the stairs, down, down, down to his other library. Gideon liked to call this one his “secret” library; it’s not that it  _ was _ secret, exactly, just... _ discontinued _ . It contained manuscripts no one else wanted and books everyone else had forgotten about. When Remus touched the door handle, the lock groaned in protest before clicking open and allowing the smell of mothballs and aging parchment to escape.

 

Torches flared to life as Remus swept in, cloak billowing and looking every bit the part of High Lord of Hell. He waved his hands and a dozen books flew off the shelves, landing neatly on the corner of the desk in the middle of the room. With ceremonial reverence, Remus removed his cloak and sat.

 

Untold hours later, Remus’ curls were in disarray and there were ink stains all over his hands. His horns were all but invisible, shielded by hair mussed in frustration, but his eyes are focused on the book in front of him. 

 

_ Account by Lily, Summer 357 _

 

_ Upon exploration of several rumors, I discovered a child of Fenrir Greyback who had set several acres of forest on fire after successfully suppressing her own magic for many years. Based on the way she was scattered across the clearing, I suspect her magic rebelled against being suppressed, and exploded. Further inquiry revealed that Fenrir had convinced her of a false prophesy that fueled her fears of both magic and the safety of her loved ones.  _

 

Remus idly wrapped a curl around his left horn as he read. His frown deepened. “Exploded” was about as well as he could describe what happened to Sirius’ magic-nearly every organic thing in the library had started flowering. Perhaps Sirius really didn’t know that he had magic. But if that’s true, then Walburga…

 

The torches flared, breaking Remus’ train of thought to let him know a visitor had arrived. 

 

“Reinventing ancient spells again, My Lord?” Gideon shuffled through the doorway, mis-matched eyes sparkling in the torchlight. 

 

Remus smiled, setting aside Lily’s account. “Sirius’ magic is returning.”

 

“An obvious catalyst for hiding among books that smell older than me.”

 

“Not everything is about you, Gideon.”

 

A smile flickered across the minor god’s face, contorting his mouth to show his crooked teeth. “I am Death. Everything is about me, eventually.” Then he shook his head and produced a scroll tied with a lightning bolt. “You’ve been summoned.”

 

Remus closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. He held out his hand and waited for the prickle of Dumbledore’s magic to wash over him. 

 

~~~

 

Never, in almost a thousand years, did Remus hate Dumbledore’s quarterly check-ins as much as he did in that moment. Still, Remus was nothing if not steadfast in his duties. He donned his cloak, checked that Sirius was still sleeping, and headed toward the door that would take him up to Olympus.

 

One of his servants caught his eye and he hesitated, one hand on the doorknob. “Peter?”

 

They stared at each other for several heartbeats before Remus cleared his throat. “Peter, will you see if Lady Walburga has any need to suppress magic on her estates?”

 

Peter frowned. “Suppress magic, My Lord?”

 

Remus nodded. “Discreetly, if you please.”

 

With a decisive nod, Peter vanished. Remus opened the door and stepped into the blinding sunlight of Mount Olympus.

 

~~~

 

After nearly falling asleep despite the glaring white marble, Remus was finally dismissed from Dumbledore’s presence. Against his instinct to hurry home, Remus took a lap around the plaza, attempting to enjoy the sunlight and fresh air. He caught Arthur fiddling with a contraption Remus couldn’t dream of a use for, and they exchanged pleasantries, though the other god seemed extraordinarily preoccupied and thankfully did not drag out the conversation. 

 

Dorcas and Marlene were lounging by a fountain, the former as dark as the latter was bright, laughing quietly to themselves in that quiet way that only happens with people who fill each other’s cracks with gold.

 

The scent of sea water assaulted his nose and he nodded to Kingsley as he made his way out to the terrace, discovering Minerva surveying the valley below them. They stood in companionable silence watching mortals bustle about their little lives.

 

“Minerva,” Remus’ voice was quiet, for though the need to ask was almost overwhelming, he was ever hesitant to break silence with her, “How late does magic usually emerge in the children of gods?”

 

She drummed her long fingers on the railing. “Once, a child of Arthur did not show magic until age seven.”

 

Remus hummed, and silence fell again. Just as he was about to take his leave, she spoke. 

 

“Our children, far more than ourselves, need a space of their own element to thrive. It is the curse of being mixed with mortal blood.”

 

Well. That certainly gave Remus plenty to think about. “Thank you. You are insightful as ever, Minerva.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to @jennandblitz for being a never-ending cheerleader.

~Sirius~

 

When Sirius awoke, the library had returned to normal. He blinked at the light and, without thinking, got out of bed. His left leg wobbled and gave out almost instantly. He spent the next little while flopping around, wallowing in his self-pity and wondering if Remus was going to stop by today. 

 

Rolling onto his back, Sirius’ head flopped over the side of the bed and his hair stretched toward the floor. A small wooden bookend caught his eye, carved to look like a pomegranate. His breath caught behind his teeth, and without spending too much time thinking, Sirius pointed at it. Somewhere behind his belly button, a warmth grew, running up his torso and down his arm until it burst from his fingertip and the wooden pomegranate turned red, the end bursting open into a flower.

 

“Huh.” 

 

His gaze cast about, and soon he had a small collection of flowering fruits scattered across the room. A small knock caused Sirius to jump, and he sat up as the door opened, revealing Remus holding some kind of long, cage-like device. 

 

“I see you have been practicing,” Remus glanced around, half-smiling at the vegetation adorning his library. 

 

Sirius’ fingers clenched on the edges of his blanket, causing cotton flowers to bloom along the edge. He dropped the blanket quickly. “I-er...I didn’t-”

 

Remus patted Sirius’ good leg lightly. “I’m glad you’re practicing. It’s important to be familiar with your own magic.”

 

Sirius ignored the way the heat from Remus’ hand spread across his shin, instead focusing on the metal cage leaning against the bed. It certainly wasn’t big enough for Sirius’ whole body, and there were hinges in the middle. Remus must have caught his gaze, because he chuckled and shifted the device onto the bed.

 

“No need to look so frightened. I had Arthur fashion you a kind of brace. You know, for your leg.” He showed Sirius how it opened, and helped him put it on. Then he grasped Sirius’ hands in both of his own and hauled him off the bed. 

 

Sirius expected his leg to give out again, and the fact that it didn’t caused him to over-balance and he collapsed against Remus’ chest. Strong arms encircled him, and for just a moment before Remus stood him back up, Sirius heard the  _ thump, thump, thump _ of Remus’ heartbeat.

 

“Let’s try again, shall we?” 

 

This time, Sirius managed to find his balance, and he half-limped around the library without falling down. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Remus grinned back at him, then smoothed his hands along his vest and turned toward the door. 

 

“I do not recommend going into Tartarus. Otherwise, my domain is yours.” With a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

 

~~~

 

After a very thorough check-up from Pomfrey in which she approved whole-heartedly of Lord Remus’ gift, Sirius was given a meal of dried meat and cheese and given permission to explore. He found the throne room, where he’d first come in (though he did not go looking for the secret entrance), a kitchen, an office, and a door that would not open and, after several attempts, burned his palm.

 

Sirius made his way down a long corridor off the throne room and came to a dock on a vast river. Asleep next to the dock was the largest dog Sirius had ever seen-he could barely see over its back while it was lying down, and its three massive heads snored in concert while its front paws twitched.

 

“Yer on the wrong side o’ the river, beater.” An enormous, bearded man came wandering out of a hut, though when he leaned on his pink oar, Sirius could see he was smiling. 

 

“I was just-I mean, I came from-”

 

The man waved a hand dismissively. “I know where yeh come from, demigod. There’s not much goes on ‘round here that I don’t find out about.” He stuck out his hand and shook most of Sirius’ arm. “Hagrid. I don’ get much long term comp’ny. Care to come in fer tea?”

 

Sirius followed Hagrid back into the hut, where his nose was filled with the scent of cinnamon and almonds before his eyes found the tray of halva squares on the tiny table. “There is no way something that smells so good came from the Underworld,” Sirius said without thinking. Then he panicked and clapped his hands over his mouth. Hagrid chuckled. 

 

“Nah. I ah, get these from...a friend, amongst the living.” Hagrid busied himself with making tea, though he suddenly seemed to forget the order of the steps.

 

There was a great huff, and a high pitched whine, and Sirius nearly jumped out of his seat when the window was filled with a giant black nose. 

 

“Ah, Spot’ll be wantin’ some o’ his own tea. Would yeh mind, Sirius?” He pointed to a stack of jerky. Sirius opened his mouth to ask how Hagrid knew his name, but Spot whined again, and the sound grated so harshly that it was all Sirius could do to shove a piece of jerky into the dog’s mouth. A second mouth appeared, and licked most of Sirius’ hand when he held out another piece. This head disappeared too, and Sirius quickly armed himself with the last piece of jerky, successfully dodging the tongue of the third head. There was a loud thump that shook the hut, and Sirius peeked outside to see Spot flopped on the ground, happily drooling all over the sand as he chewed his treats.

 

“So. Spot, huh?” Sirius wiped his arm on the towel Hagrid handed him then accepted a piece of halva. It was sweet and very heavily spiced-just as Sirius remembered from the one vacation he remembered going on as a small child.

 

“Aye. Remus named ‘im when he was jus’ a pup.” Hagrid poured himself a mug of tea and chose his own slice of halva. 

 

“And the others?”

 

Hagrid frowned over his mug. “Wha’ others?”

 

“I presume that one-” Sirius pointed to the dog head in the middle- “is Spot, since he has a spot over one eye. But what about the others?”

 

“I...dunno. He’s always just been Spot.”

 

Sirius, feeling rather more like himself than he had in weeks, pushed off his chair and limped his way outside. Spot eyed him, clearly attempting to discern whether Sirius had any more treats. He held out his hands and allowed each head to sniff him in turn. The left head made an extra-loud snuffling sound, while the right simply nosed him until he gave several ear scratches. After several minutes, Sirius made his way back inside.

 

“Fluffy, on the right. ‘Cuz his fur is softer than the others. Spot, in the middle, and Snuffles, on the left.” He sat back down and took another bite of his halva.

 

“Snuffles?” Hagrid asked, though he was grinning.

 

Sirius swallowed. “His breathing is loudest.”

 

“I’m very glad to have met you, Sirius. And I think the dogs are too.”

 

Sirius looked up to see three giant noses trying to fit into Hagrid’s window. He laughed and got himself covered in slobber again. 

 

In the distance, a bell rang. Hagrid sighed and scooped up his oar. “I’ll be takin’ my leave then. Come back and visit soon, aye? No one ever stays ‘round for long.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to jennandblitz and confunded-gryffindor for the beta!

~James~

The second worst thing about being the messenger god, according to James, was running seemingly pointless errands for Dumbledore. The worst thing was  _ waiting _ to run seemingly pointless errands for Dumbledore. And yet, here he was, one leg sprawled over the arm of his throne, playing an endless game of catch with a winged ball he’d invented (to match his shoes).

The doors flew opened, causing James to almost miss his catch. Walburga was dragging a small man behind her, his wrists bound in what James was almost certain was poison ivy. He glanced over to Dumbledore’s empty chair, and sighed his favorite Sigh of Eternal Suffering.

“Dumbledore!” Walburga spat, as though speaking his name could summon the man. Her gaze fell on James, and he tried not to squirm. “Where is he?”

“Chasing wood nymphs, probably,”

Somehow, Walburga managed to look down her nose at him even though James was well above her. “Fine. Then you will deliver a message,  _ Messenger God _ . This man-” she shoved her captive in front, and he fell to his knees- “was found sneaking around my garden. He belongs to Remus. I do not tolerate such things.”

She whirled, her cloak slapping the man in the face, and was gone.

James frowned, then hovered down and pulled the man to his feet. “What is your name?”

“Peter, My Lord.” His wrists twisted against the vines, and red welts were blossoming across his arms.

“Let’s get you to Marlene’s wing, Peter.” James carefully guided the man to the Healer’s Wing. Dumbledore was waiting outside the door when he re-emerged, causing James to hide a jump.

“I heard I missed some dramatics.” He stroked his beard idly.

“‘Course you did; it was Walburga. Convenient of you to be missing.” James pulled his winged ball out of his pocket, resuming his game of catch-and-release.

Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking at the doors to the Healer’s Wing as though they could answer his questions. “Don’t go far, James. I’ll have a task for you, yet.” He strode off.

James rolled his eyes, snatching his ball hard enough to crumple one of the wings. “Not like you couldn’t find me even if I left.” He sulked all the way to his chambers.

Later, when Marlene showed off to her lover with her usual excessive explosion of colors, a scroll from Dumbledore appeared. Dorcas answered Marlene with a barrage of shooting stars, and James glared at the scroll. When he didn't unfurl it, it did so automatically, informing him that Peter was recovering well, and that he was a servant of Remus. And demanded that James go to the Underworld and inquire as to what Remus’ man was doing in the mortal realm.

James watched as Marlene’s display ended and the world fell dark. He  _ hated _ going to the Underworld at night. Perhaps he could wait until morning…

As though the scroll could hear his thoughts, it glowed, and a single sentence was added.

_ Post haste. _

James tore the parchment into tiny pieces before launching himself off the terrace balcony and flying toward the Gates of Hell.

~

James took a deep breath and landed softly on the dirt in front of the imposing double doors. He thought about the last time he was here; his conversation with Hagrid; the way Peter’s wrists bled from the poisoned blisters. He was definitely intimidated by Remus, but whatever was going on… he was fairly certain the Lord of Hell was not the culprit.

He knocked on the doors.

Just as before, Hagrid appeared, his giant pink oar slung over his shoulder. “Hello, James. How can I help ye?”

James bit his lip. “I need to see Remus.”

Hagrid frowned. “He’s prob’ly getting ready for the night.” A trio of delighted barks echoed up from the depths behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, shifting his weight. “Can ye come back tomorrow?”

“No. Dumbledore’s orders.”

In the silence after the barks, James heard a sound emerge from Hell that he had never heard before, in his entire immortal life. Laughter burst forth from the doors to the Underworld.

James crooked an eyebrow at Hagrid, who somehow managed to look sheepish and indignant at the same time. “Spot’ll be back from his walk, then. Come on.” Hagrid stood back to let James through, then led him down a path to a cabin. Outside, Remus’ giant, three-headed dog was sprawled on his side, two heads asleep, the third chewing on what looked suspiciously like a femur.

Hagrid hung up his oar. The awake dog head snuffled at Hagrid’s feet, and the giant scratched one ear fondly. “There’s a good boy, Snuffles. I’ll be back soon.”

“I thought Remus named him Spot.”

“Tha’ one’s Spot.” Hagrid pointed to the head in the middle. “This one’s Snuffles. Tha’ one’s Fluffy. Come on, hopefully we can catch Remus before he retires.”

James trailed after Hagrid. “I don’t think I ever knew Remus had given them different names.”

“He didn’. Sirius did.” Hagrid pushed a spirit’s hands away from James’ leg and clapped his hands. The sound echoed louder than it should have, and the edges of their path slowly cleared of souls.

The doors of Remus’ castle emerged from the twilight fog, and Hagrid rang the middle of three bells. The doors swung open.

“He’s still up then. Good luck, James.” Then Hagrid turned on his giant boot and trundled back down the road.

It wasn’t until James was standing in the entrance of Remus’ throne room that his brain put together the name  _ Sirius _ with his current assignment.

Remus appeared, his cloak unnaturally still around his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow before ascending to his throne.

“James. To what do I owe the pleasure at this late hour?”

The pieces of Dumbledore’s narrative fell into place, and though they fit, somehow James was certain the puzzle was incomplete. “One of your servants was discovered on Walburga’s grounds.”

Remus idly drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. The silence grew until James began to feel as though the other god was not going to respond at all.

“Peter has a fondness for mortal vegetation that cannot be grown here. Surely there is no doubt that Walburga’s gardens have the best produce?”

“Of course not, I-”

“It would be greatly appreciated if my servant was returned to me immediately.”

“I-” James swallowed. “He is in the Healer’s Wing. He was-he contracted poison ivy.”

“When he is well, then.”

Though Remus didn’t say anything else- hardly moved at all in fact- James knew he had been dismissed. He bowed his head and retreated. The moment the castle doors shut behind him, he took flight and did not touch land until he reached his own chambers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to jennandblitz for beta-ing!

~Sirius~

 

The brace Remus had given him was, literally and figuratively, a gift from a god. Having the ability to move about on his own did wonders for Sirius’ mental health, though it also showed him  _ exactly  _ where his limits were.

 

It turned out, one of those limits was keeping pace with a giant three-headed dog. Though, if Sirius were to be honest with himself, he probably couldn’t have done that before he was injured. Snuffles was always the first to notice that Sirius was starting to lag, and would nip at Spot’s ear, causing the dog to sit. The first time this happened, Sirius almost got squashed by a giant tail. 

 

It took them entirely too long to figure out that when Sirius started lagging, he could just  _ ride on the dog’s back _ . This resulted in much happiness all around, except when Snuffles and Fluffy would get into an argument about which direction they were going, and Sirius had to use all of his strength not to be thrown off.

 

They enjoyed their time together, playing fetch all over the Underworld and finding geothermal vents to warm their feet. There was an island the dog seemed very invested in visiting, and one day, he simply leapt over the lake and landed-significantly softer than Sirius had imagined-on the island’s beach. 

 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be here, boys,” Sirius muttered, though Remus’ words echoed in his head:  _ I do not recommend going into Tartarus. Otherwise, my domain is yours. _

 

Whatever this island was, it was not Tartarus.

 

Even in the mysterious, unsourced twilight of the Underworld, this island glowed golden. It had cottages and fences and  _ green grass _ . Sirius slid down one giant dog leg, grunting slightly as his injured knee bore weight again. Snuffles licked the left side of his body.

 

“Thanks.” Slobber dripped off Sirius’ fingers. He wiped his arm on black fur. The dog took off, barking happily and bounding inland. Not more than a moment later, a broad-shouldered man with hair like a lion’s mane burst from one of the cottages, grinning. 

 

“Spot!” He cried, leaping into the air to grapple the middle of the three necks. “I’ve missed you, you scoundrel!” 

 

Sirius watched as this man  _ wrestled _ with a three-headed dog so large he could hardly fit one of his noses through a kitchen window. When Fluffy pinned him to the ground with his jaws, Sirius noticed that his mouth was open. The man let out a laugh and patted Fluffy’s nose, who licked the man’s entire body before letting him up. 

 

The man’s piercing blue eyes landed on Sirius. “Spot, you’ve brought us a new friend!” He wiped his hands on his trousers and strode over. It wasn’t until the other man was right in front of him that Sirius realized just how  _ large _ this man was. Unlike Hagrid, he was definitely human, but he seemed more like something out of a legend. 

 

“I…” Sirius took in the man’s tunic, emblazoned with a roaring lion on a burgundy field; his face was smiling, though a set of parallel scars ran down the left side; when Sirius finally grasped the proffered hand, he could feel that the man’s ring finger was missing a knuckle. His brain extracted an almost-forgotten memory of reading a book stolen from his father’s library. “You’re Godric Gryffindor.”

 

Godric’s smile widened, and shook Sirius’ hand firmly. “You are still alive.”

 

“Why do people keep saying that to me?”

 

“You’re in the Underworld, lad. Being alive is unusual here.”

 

A window slid open, and Sirius glanced over Godric’s shoulder to the small cottage. A woman with golden ringlets spilling over her shoulders leaned out.

 

“Godric? Oh!” Her gaze fell to Sirius and she disappeared for a moment before the door opened. “We’ve a new resident? I’m Helga.” She curtsied. 

 

Sirius blinked. “I-”

 

Barks echoed, and Sirius realized he hadn’t noticed until that moment that Remus’ dog had gone. He was bounding around cottages, skittering to a halt in front of the three of them. Snuffles barked once more, falling to one knee in an invitation to ride. Almost instinctively, Sirius glanced at Godric.

 

“Go on then, lad. Spot seems to have something to show you.”

 

Sirius hauled himself up, and Godric and Helga waved as though he was their son, setting out on a journey. Then he was clinging to black fur and hoping his injured leg wouldn’t cause him to fall. Eventually they slowed, coming to a stop in front of a tall wooden gate. When Sirius didn’t immediately dismount, Spot collapsed on the ground. 

 

With a sigh, Sirius heaved himself down. Fluffy nosed him toward the gate. It was nearly twice as tall as Sirius, and attached to a fence just as tall and solid. The latch was quite ornate, and though it looked old, it was not rusty. Sirius reached for it.

 

“It won’t open.”

 

Sirius jumped, looking around. A tall, thin man with a trim, black goatee was leaning against the fence, and Sirius was  _ certain _ he had not been there a moment before. His emerald green cloak rippled as he gestured toward the gate.

 

“It appears to be unlocked. But in the hundreds of years I have been living here, it’s never opened.”

 

With a frown, Sirius glanced over toward the dog. Spot whimpered, and Snuffles nudged him with his nose. With renewed determination, Sirius reached for the latch. Warmth radiated down his arm; the latch glowed softly and clicked open. With a cocky grin, Sirius looked over at the man, hoping to see surprise on his face. Instead, the man was looking at Sirius’ hands and drumming his own fingers on his arm.

 

“Curious.” Then he smiled, gave an elaborate bow, and vanished.

 

Snuffles nudged Sirius again. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, and pulled the gate open. Inside was the most wild, overgrown garden he’d ever seen. Some plants were half-dead; vines crawled up the fence and reached out toward trees that were dead and trees that were so laden with fruit they looked as though their branches might fall off. He could faintly make out the outline of stone on the ground, and when he stepped forward, the weeds bent away, clearing a path. 

 

Sirius quickly lost track of time, his mind filled with Remus’ words _. I’m glad you’re practicing. It’s important to be familiar with your own magic. _ He watched how different plants responded to him; blossoming, wilting, growing, shedding leaves. 

 

Soon, one corner was cleared of all the plants Walburga loved, and filled instead with a curious ground crawler that Sirius had never seen before, but whose flowers glowed a deep, soothing purple when he touched them. 

 

The second corner was filled with what Sirius had always called weapon-plants: plants with jagged leaves, plants with thorns, plants with oils that made your skin burn. He tried to use his magic without touching them, and while they did wither away, it was much slower and much more exhausting. 

 

A triple bark caused him to flinch, and his ring finger collided with a particularly vicious-looking thorn. Three drops of blood fell to the dirt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you @jennandblitz for the beta!

 

~Remus~

 

Now that Sirius was walking again, Remus had assumed he’d get his main library back. It hadn’t occurred to him that Sirius wouldn’t want to leave, or that  _ he _ wouldn’t want Sirius to leave. So instead, he indulged in social dances of asking permission to enter rooms in his own house, and avoided any space that was too warm, too green, too  _ alive _ .

Remus was out of touch with much of the mortal realm, but he couldn’t help but notice how Sirius’ breath quickened when Remus entered the room, the way Sirius would fidget and lose control of his magic the moment he became aware of Remus’ presence. 

Sirius’ magic.

That’s another reason Remus tried to stay away-Sirius’ magic caused his own to react in ways he couldn’t predict. It wasn’t unusual for his magic to surge under his skin when he came near anyone with life magic-after all, that was the duality of his existence- but Sirius made his magic thrash, sparking down his chest and coiling around his wrists. So Remus watched from afar. He watched Sirius learn how to control his magic, to stop a plant growing before it got out of control. He watched Sirius laugh and ride Spot through the fields of Asphodel. He watched Spot carry Sirius to the Elysian Fields day after day.

Remus never followed.

He didn’t go to the Fields very much anyway, and it was obvious that whatever Sirius had found there brought him great joy. From Remus’ bedroom window, he could see Hagrid’s hut, and watched as day after day Sirius and Spot returned, dirty and looking windswept and happy. For once, Remus allowed his desire to overrule his caution, and he stood for another moment at the window, watching Sirius laugh, watching the way Sirius’ hair blended with Spot’s fur when he wrapped his arms around each of Spot’s heads, watching the way Sirius concealed his limp until he thought no one was watching. 

Dread plummeted through Remus’ stomach when bright, silver eyes fell on him, and though he wanted desperately to move-to flee- it was as though Sirius had grown vines around his legs, fixing him where he stood. Sirius disappeared from view, and still Remus couldn’t move. He stared at the path Sirius had walked, and his eyes caught glistening dots in the dust. 

_ Knock knock _

Without thinking, Remus waved his hand, and the door opened. There was a smudge of dirt under Sirius’ left eye, and he was cradling his right hand. He shrugged one shoulder, flashing Remus a crooked grin.

“May I…” Sirius gestured toward a chair.

Suddenly, Remus’ body sprung to life again. “Yes, yes! Come in. Sit down. What can I do for you?” The moment the words fell from his lips, his nose flared with the scent of life-of blood. “You’re injured.”

Sirius sat, holding a small pool of blood. Remus watched another drop well on Sirius’ finger before running down his hand and dripping into the other one. He summoned a cloth, and passed it over.

“I was going to try to find Pomfrey, but Hagrid said you-” Sirius hissed as he pressed the cloth against his finger. “This is ridiculous. It’s just a little prick.”

“If you’ve been injured by the Underworld, Hagrid is correct. I’m the only one who can heal those wounds.” Remus stretched out his fingers, hovering them above Sirius’. “May I…?”

Sirius nodded, and with a deep breath, Remus knelt, taking Sirius’ hand and turning it to better examine his fingers.

“Where were you?”

“On an island. There’s a garden, surrounded by a big fence. It’s all overgrown and- What?”

Remus realized his emotions must be showing on his face. “Nothing, I-” he cleared his throat. “Do you like it?” He could feel Sirius’ heartbeat when his own fingers touched the wound; pulsing, pounding,  _ alive _ . With an unusually large amount of concentration, Remus pushed, and the tingling rush of magic poured from his own finger tip, knitting Sirius’ wound closed with tiny golden sparks.

“Woah,” Sirius breathed, his gaze fixed on their hands. The magic faded, but Sirius made no move to pull away. Remus felt once again rooted to the spot, kneeling in front of Sirius, their hands clasped. His mind clawed desperately for any kind of cultural protocol for when one’s magic shows off for someone else. 

It took a great deal of effort, but Remus lifted his gaze to Sirius’, and the demigod smiled, leaning forward until there were only breaths between them. A small  _ pop _ caused Sirius to jump, and Remus’ hand felt suddenly very cold and very empty. On his desk was a scroll, bound in lightning.

Remus frowned. Then, in one swift movement, he rose and crossed the room, unrolling the scroll as his frown deepened.

“What’s wrong?”

Remus glanced up, startled by the fear in Sirius’ voice. “I’ve been summoned to Olympus,” he said. “I’ve been accused of kidnapping you.”

~

This time, every throne on Olympus was full. Remus blinked in the sunlight, taking in James, who was rolling his eyes, and Dumbledore, who was peering over the tips of his fingers. Walburga stood at the Dumbledore’s feet, her face pinched as though she’d swallowed some of her own poison. 

“Remus,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed off the marble columns, “You have been summoned to Olympus under accusations of kidnapping a child of Walburga. How do you plead?”

Walburga turned her sickly smile to him, and Remus heard echoes of Sirius’ sobs, of his uneven footsteps, and he spoke to her as he answered Dumbledore. “There is no living soul held against their will in the Underworld.” 

They ivy wrapped around Walburga’s skirts shone bright with poison as she whirled, arms wide. “Where then, is my son? Why was your man lurking on my lands?” 

Before Remus could respond, Marlene’s throne pulsed with golden light, and she rose, hovering above the marble floor with her head lolling to one side. Her voice boomed, though her mouth didn’t move.

“ _ God’s blood spilled on foreign soil-” _

Walburga began shrieking, “ _ He’s killed my son! Remus killed my son!” _ Remus narrowed his eyes, trying desperately to hear the rest of the prophecy. Dorcas rose from her own throne, striding with purpose until she was underneath the body of her lover. Lily dropped her apple at the same moment Marlene plummeted into Dorcas’ arms. On Dumbledore’s left, McGonagall drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne. On his right, James missed his flying ball when his eyes shifted to track Lily’s movements across the Plaza. 

Remus heard Mad-Eye lean to Arthur and murmur, “Walburga’s never cared about the fate of her children before.”

“ _ SILENCE! _ ” Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, his voice thundering. “We will consult Trelawny on the status of the fate string of Sirius, son of Walburga.”

The only sound was Dorcas’ leather sandals sliding across the marble as she carried Marlene out of the Plaza. The moment they had vanished, a large fire sprung to life in the center of the room, smoke twisting to form the bust of a woman with wild hair and too-large eyes. 

Walburga took half a step toward the fire, but froze under Dumbledore’s quelling glare. 

“Trelawny,” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet again, but still permeated like thunder. “What say you?”

The smoke danced, causing Trelawny’s shape to rotate. She blinked owlishly, and when she spoke, sparks flew from her mouth. “Changes in fate strings do not indicate death. But there have been changes for one Son of Walburga.”

Images of shimmering blood drops appeared in Remus’ mind, and he wondered how he could have been so stupidly preoccupied with Sirius’ need for mortal food that he had let the lifeblood of a demigod spill on his lands. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was staring into the bright green eyes of Lily, her head cocked to one side in thoughtful deliberation.

With all the dignity he could summon, Remus fled the Plaza.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! And thank you thank you to @jennandblitz for being a true Goddess

~James~

The echo of Remus’ door reverberated through the Plaza more than usual, vibrating the lyre at James’ hip until it hummed in response. 

“He  _ flees _ !” Walburga shrieked into the silence. “He has stolen my son!”

_ That’s a bit excessive _ , James thought.  _ Remus certainly didn’t flee. More like a tactical retreat. _ To his chagrin, Dumbledore tapped the arm of his throne.

“I have an errand for you, James,” Dumbledore said quietly, as if James hadn’t been sitting in the Plaza the entire time. “Please retrieve any living sons of Walburga and bring them to Olympus.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, James launched himself in the air, gracefully somersaulting as he rose. He couldn’t help but grin when he felt Lily’s eyes on him, adding in extra pirouettes until an apple came whizzing past his feet. 

~

For the second time in memory, laughter poured from the Gates of Hell. For the first time in memory, Hagrid wasn’t smiling. 

“I’ve orders not ter let you in, James,” he said gruffly, his pink oar barring the small gap in the doors. “Sorry.” With a flash of regret across his face, Hagrid pushed the Gates closed. 

James stared at the three obsidian knockers, weighing his options. He could knock again; Hagrid was intimidated enough by Dumbledore that he would probably let James in if pressed. But then he would  _ have _ to face Remus, and Remus was dizzingly good at speaking at length without actually answering questions. James’ gaze shifted from the center knocker to the one on the left. Remus was certainly intimidating, but the more James thought about it, the more he was convinced that whatever Remus was up to, it wasn’t malicious. In fact, he was probably the most moral god on Olympus. The left knocker glistened softly in the ethereal light, shadows shifting to make the dog head look as though it was watching James. 

His gaze fell to the parchment in his hand, wrapped in a lightning bolt. If he returned to Olympus now, he would surely face the wrath of both Walburga  _ and _ Dumbledore. It had been centuries since James had directly disobeyed an order. Now was as good a time as any to remind Dumbledore that James was not a half formed demigod to be wielded as a tool.

With a flourish typically reserved only for the gaze of Lily, James launched himself backward into the air.

~

To his immense surprise, Walburga was still in the Plaza when he returned. She was seated, the vines on her dress creeping and twining with the ones on the legs of her throne. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Then Walburga dramatically looked around.

“Where is my son?”

James swallowed, the wings on his shoes beating feebly. He glanced around the Plaza, only to find Lily watching him unabashedly, one hand halfway to the dove on her throne. The sight of her openly staring stiffened James’ resolve.

“Do you know what I heard, when Hagrid opened the Gates? Laughter. Never, in godly memory, has laughter spilled forth from the Gates of Hell. Until today.” The words echoed, and James finally shifted his gaze from Lily to Dumbledore’s steepled fingers. “I believe he is where he wants to be, Dumbledore.”

“Did he say this to you, James?” Dumbledore asked mildly.

“Well-no.”

“Perhaps-” Dumbledore inclined his head toward Walburga- “it would be best to bring Sirius here, and ask him ourselves.”

“You are very wise, Dumbledore,” said Walburga, though her words dripped with poison. “ _ Go and fetch my son, James. _ ” 

Once again, James launched himself into the air with a flourish. As he passed the tops of the pillars, a dove feather materialized in his hand.


End file.
